The Bold and the Restless
by Orange-Lemons
Summary: The gang have grown up, and five years from that young and beautiful summer, Seto Kaiba is left with naught but faded memories. SEQUEL TO Y&B. YAOI.
1. Harder to Breathe

Wheeeee! Orange-Lemons is back in town!! it's good to be back! I is very sorry it took so long, i really is!! But we just moved inter-state... and I had a very bad case of "first chapter syndrome", but with any luck, my beta and writing support group have cured me...   
  
Also, me has another story for you to go and read! It's not in my usual happy, jokey, fluffy style... although, sometimes i spot horrible, horrible similarities between the two... they will be completely different! honest! but, anyway, it's there. --plug, plug-- NOW, onto the sequel...  
  
**_THE BOLD AND THE RESTLESS_**

_Asuka gawa  
Kawa yodo sarazu  
Tatsu kiri no  
Omoi sugi beki  
Koi ni aranaku ni_  
  
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh!, its characters and other funky stuff aren't mine. Poor me.  
  
Chapter 1: Harder to Breathe

* * *

A heavy base throbbed from the rear speakers of a sleek, black, convertible Lamborghini. The driver, a youth of 19, searched the dashboard for a lighter, as he waited for the lights to change. He sheltered the flame from the chilled night air, pulling a drag from the cigarette between his lips.  
  
The engine purred, the car gliding forward at it's green cue. Wind whipped through long, raven hair and caught at the smoke in the driver's mouth. It dropped, followed by a whispered curse, the youth searching for his lost tobacco. The needle creeped faster around the speedometre.  
  
A sharp, loud honk alerted the driver to an oncoming truck. Red lights flared in violet eyes.

"Fuck." Unable to stop, he sped up, swerving violently. But the truck caught the rear of the sports car, sending it into a spin. The driver fought with the wheel for control of the vehicle as it careered off the road. He finally gave up in despair, the black metal crumpling against the traffic light post.  
  
Screams, sirens and horns deafened him, intense pain shooting up his body. People were gathered around him, strangers begging hysterically for him to stay awake. His head span, his eyesight foggy. He couldn't feel his legs, he couldn't feel _anything._ He pulled in a few painful breaths, and slowly lost all conscious thought.

* * *

"The cars a write-off, smashed to a bloody pulp." It had been a very, very expensive car. Very sexy, too. Not that Kaiba gave a shit about the car.   
  
The doctor pushed the double doors open, showing the CEO into Domino Private Hospital. "He's lost a lot of blood, and his legs we're badly crushed on impact. He has also retained severe head injuries. We're hopeful he will regain consciousness within 24 hours, but it is doubtful he will ever walk again. There is also a possibility of brain damage to the right side of his brain..."  
  
Kaiba stared down at the pale face of his little brother, stomach churning. There were tubes and wires attached to his head, chest and wrists, and machines were blinking and beeping beside him.  
  
"He'd been drinking, so it would seem..."  
  
Mokuba still lived at home, but had been spending more and more nights out. Kaiba worried like crazy about him, though he had vowed he would not come between him and a real life. Just because Seto had given up altogether, didn't mean Mokuba had to, right?  
  
Kaiba was starting to feel he had been very, very wrong.  
  
It wasn't fair! Mokuba was his world, and he still had so much to live for. He shouldn't be lying in a hospital bed, depending on machines to breathe for him! Kaiba clenched his fists. It shouldn't be Mokuba lying there. It should be him.  
  
Kaiba stayed in the hospital until four in the morning, when he was shooed off by a well-meaning nurse. Mokuba's condition was no worse. But it was no better, either. Seto could not bear it. He couldn't stand by and watch his little brother, white as a ghost and lifeless. The doctores were more and more concerned that there would be some kind of permanent brain damage, when he woke up.  
  
_If_ he woke up.  
  
Seto's stomach lurched again, threatening to bring up what little food he'd been able to force down his dry throat. How could he have let this happen to the only thing he lived for? He dialled the hospital again.  
  
"Domino Private Hospital, how may I help you?"  
  
"Has there been any change?"  
  
"Pardon? Who is this? That wouldn't be Mr Kaiba, would it?"  
  
"How is Mokuba?"  
  
The receptionist sighed a long-suffering sigh. "He's still comatose. We will notify you as soon as there has been any change. You can stop calling us now."  
  
Seto slammed the phone down. "Fuck!"

* * *

The elder Kaiba paced his lounge room. Eight days! Eight days, and Mokuba was still out for the count. Every minute, he prayed for and dreaded the harsh ringing of the telephone. He just needed to know! For better, or for... well...  
  
When the phone did at last ring, it took a minute for Seto to realise it wasn't just his imagination. He ran to the phone, dropped it, and picked it up again.  
  
"Is there any news?"  
  
"Mr Kaiba... I..." Seto's heart stopped. No. No. It was all he could think, over and over. No.  
  
"Is he... is he...?"  
  
"I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do."  
  
No. Kaiba didn't believe it. Mokuba couldn't be... No. No, no, no, no, no. The phone slipped from his trembling hands. No, no... He sank to his knees, unable to support himself. His brother... his world... no... he wasn't _gone_...  
  
His whole body shook violently, hot bile rising in his throat. His already tender soul shattered - what else was there? An empty life alone, with his machines? He couldn't handle it anymore. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to live, without a purpose, without something to live_ for_...  
  
He climbed the stairs, a dull ringing in his ears. Reaching the third floor, he stood on the balcony, eyes upon the heavens. Was Mokuba up there? Was he watching? Seto wiped his watering eyes. Why?  
  
Those beautiful, clear blue eyes fell from the skies, dropping to stare at the ground three stories below. He had nothing else to live for. Why should he go on?  
  
He gingerely stepped up onto the railing, balancing perfectly. Well?  
  
He took a deep breath, one he recognised as his last...

* * *

9600 kilometres away, in a cheap motel room in Cairo, a slim, young man with tri-coloured hair bolted up in bed. "Seto..."

* * *

Okies! That'll do for now! The new ff.net formatting is really screwy! wah!! but don't forget to drop a review on your way through!!


	2. Falling

I know, I killed Mokuba. I'm very naughty. Usually, I'm against needless murder for plot advancement, but he just had to go. Not for any particular reason, but... well, anyway...  
  
Credit to Hikari Ryu for the name of the band. I know I said I'd send you early cookies, but, well, I forgot. --SORRY!!-- um, yeah...  
  
Disclaimer: Mine, it is not. Yoda, i is talking like. Retard, me is.  
  
Chapter 2: Falling

* * *

_Jumping won't bring him back..._  
  
Kaiba hesitated, the little voice in his head seeming to have a point. But...  
  
_He wouldn't want you to._  
  
He looked skywards again. That was true, too. Mokuba wouldn't want him to die, just because... just for him. He sighed. What was he doing? He wouldn't give up. He would live. For Mokuba. It would be what he'd want. Kaiba cautiously began lowering himself from the railing.  
  
_Thank Ra for that, Master Yami will be pleased...  
_  
Kaiba jolted, tripping as he descended. His balance thrown, he hovered dangerously three stories above the ground. There was a squeal behind him, which startled him more, and he fell...  
  
A metre from the ground, he stopped, dangling in mid air as though held there by invisible string. Feeling rather relieved, and rather stupid, he awkwardly put a foot on the ground, and stood up. There was another squeal of amusement from his right. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with...  
  
"KURIBOH!"  
  
It squealed at him, bouncing slightly, apparently in delight. Kaiba looked at it warily. "You! You were talking in my head!"  
  
_It's called telepathy.  
_  
"Well thankyou, Captain Obvious."  
  
The Kuriboh scowled. _This is the 'thankyou' I get for talking you off that balcony? And then stopping your fall?  
_  
Kaiba glowered. The absurdity of the situation had finally sunk in. He was standing in his front garden, talking to a 2ft, magical piece of Egyptian lint, who had just saved him from commiting suicide. "Thankyou, Kuriboh," he sighed.  
  
_Are you okay?  
_  
"No, not really, no," Kaiba scowled, before he could stop himself. "My brother has just died, in case you hadn't noticed." He fought back tears again.  
  
_Kaiba, I know it hurts. But the pain will go away. Trust me. Mokuba wouldn't want you to be unhappy.  
_  
"Kuriboh?"  
  
_Yes, Priest?  
_  
Kaiba started at the name. Shaking his head, he murmered, "Did... did you say 'Master Yami?' So he's... still in Egypt?"  
  
_You've given up on him, haven't you?_ Kaiba didn't say anything. What could he say? He hated himself for even asking, at a time like this, when all he should be thinking about was Mokuba. But Yami... he was still in love with the Pharaoh, even after all this time. The Kuriboh gave a downheartened squeal. _Don't lose hope.  
_  
Kaiba looked up. There was a squeal; then the little monster was gone. "Wait! What do you mean, don't..." Mokuba... Yami... he needed them both. And they were both gone. His eyes leaked once more. "Don't lose hope," he muttered. "Yeah, right..."

* * *

"You mean I haven't seen him in five years, and you won't even tell me a _single thing_ about how he is?"  
  
The Kuriboh grinned. Obviously, it wasn't saying anything. But the Pharaoh wasn't giving up that easily.  
  
"So why did he need help? He _did_ need help, didn't he...?" He trailed off, frowning. "I was dreaming... and suddenly..." He shook his head. "Seto is okay?"  
  
The Kuriboh nodded his head, which was effectively his whole body. Yami sighed, relieved. "Ra, how I've missed him..."  
  
The monster sent him a pitying glance. The Pharaoh had looked so lost without his priest, these past five years. He was thinner than ever, and his eyes had held a tortured misery Kuriboh only once saw before in their crimson depths. Yami noticed the monster's staring.  
  
"What? Why are you staring at me? There's something you're not telling me, I can tell." Yami's face suddenly brightened. "Well I don't care! I'll find out for myself in a few days!"  
  
_But Master..._  
  
"What is it?"  
  
_Are you sure you should go back?_  
  
"Kuriboh, I have to! I can't stand being away from him any longer. Besides, I have to give him my present!" Yami sounded like a child, begging to be allowed out to play. "Don't you understand?"  
  
_Yes, master. But... don't get your hopes too high.  
_  
"Me? Get my hopes up? Yeah, right..." Yami was practically giggling. Somehow, Kuriboh didn't quite believe him.

* * *

Ryou was suddenly woken by a wet lick to the ear. Wondering vaguely when he had bought the dog, he opened his eyes, blinking in the rare English sunlight. Bakura was, apparently, nibbling his ear.  
  
"Bloody hell, Bakura, what do you think you're doing?"  
  
The Egyptian man smiled. "It's shopping day."  
  
Ryou cursed. He had actually enjoyed shopping, once upon a time. That was until Bakura had discovered the delights of Marks and Spencer, of course. "Do we have to?"  
  
"Yes, I work hard for that money! Which means I get to choose how and when we spend it. And we don't have any milk."  
  
"If you call selling leaves of that marijuana plant to those poor sods 'working', you have a lot to learn about modern society."  
  
"Are you kidding? Without my supremely genius business enterprise, you'd be bankrupt. Besides, it takes a special kind of man to be able to grow a pot plant under a floorboard." This, Ryou had to admit, was true. They were living in a very small uni dorm, and would be in rather a lot of shite if their pot was found. Which meant the poor plant was sustained with Shadow Magick.  
  
They got on the tube, another of Bakura's favourites. He said the darkness reminded him of Egyptian tombs, and could never quite figure out why Ryou found this un-nerving. Sitting down, Bakura pointed out a poster.  
  
"Look, it's Malik's band! Playing at the Millenium Stadium."  
  
This was hardly a surprise. Malik's band - 'Psychiatryst' - were insanely popular. They also had a reputation for being constantly high and very promiscuous. Malik himself was now treated in much the same way Seto Kaiba had been in Japan. Malik, though, enjoyed it.  
  
"We should go," Bakura insisted.  
  
"Why are we spending our money at Marx n Sparx, then?"  
  
"Are you kidding? We don't have to _pay_. Please, can we go?"  
  
Ryou rolled his eyes. He had a sinking feeling getting in would involve something illegal. It nearly always did with Bakura. He made a resolution to get very, very stoned before they went to the concert.  
  
That said, the shopping trip wasn't too bad. Bakura was walking around in the pinkest, biggest bra he could find, and stocked the trolley with mounds of strawberries and cream, but it really wasn't too bad. He even stole a lollipop for the little girl at the register next to theirs.  
  
"See, Bakura, you can be sweet when you try..."

* * *

That was............ weird. Sorry if England didn't sound proper, but I haven't been there in eight years, and i can remember very little. I was, uh, a teensy bit tipsy when I wrote that... maybe you can tell?? But i'm no alchie, i know when to stop...  
  
Review me, pwease??


	3. I'm Back

Ugh. Behind on my fic writing again. You can thank Night's Child for making me get off my arse and write this; her good-natured nagging at school got me working... now if only she'll tell me to do my homework and clean my room, i'd get everything done...  
  
Oh, and DevilsHalo, of course, for her beta-ing and truthfulness, and amazing humour. And GothAnkh, the voice of reason and sarcasm... I am so lucky to have these three in my class.  
  
Disclaimer: The chawachtersh ishn't mine. But they ishk all sho ickle and shweet, sho i lovesh them and witeshk ficksh about them. Yup. If you understood that, you're very smart.  
  
Chapter 3: I'm Back! (hehehe, the song is from the episode of the dub where Kaiba hacks into Industrial Illusions' satellite. We've been singing it at school all week)

* * *

Yami became more and more restless as the plane drew nearer Japan. By the time they entered Japanese airspace, he was literally bouncing with excitement. He seemed to find the simplest little things funny - like the poor tourist with overly large ears, or the toddler spreading the in-flight meal on it's unsuspecting sibling. Through the terminal, to the luggage carousel, and out to the taxi stand, he remained in a rare state of euphoria, such that he hadn't experienced in several years.  
  
He was home.  
  
The taxi pulled up outside a large, pink block of apartments forty-five minutes later. Yami scrambled out, paid his fare, and pressed the intercom button for flat number 18. A maniac grin spread across his face as Yugi's voice, impatient and deeper than he remembered, snapped at him from the little grey speaker.  
  
"Hello, hikari," he answered it.  
  
There was an odd squeak from the intercom. Yami fought hard not to laugh, as Yugi recovered from the original shock. "Is... Is that you, Yami?"  
  
"No, it's the Spanish Inquisition. Of course it's me! Now, are you going to let me in, or will I have to blast the door open with magick?"  
  
The buzzer buzzed, and Yami climbed the stairs three at a time. Yugi was waiting for him on the landing. "I can't believe it, you're back!" he practically giggled, clutching him in a suffocating embrace. "You're back for good, I assume?"  
  
"Yes, I'm not leaving again. I love Egypt, but I belong in Japan."  
  
Yugi lead him inside, a sigh escaping his lips. "Good. I've been a bit down lately." He busied himself with the kettle. "Tea, or Coffee?"  
  
"Haven't you got anything stronger? It was a long flight. And what do you mean, you've 'been down'?"  
  
Yugi looked up in surprise. "You haven't heard? Oh, of course you haven't..." He bent down, pulling two glasses and a bottle of spirits out from the cupboard. "Mokuba... he died in a car accident a few days ago."  
  
A brief flicker of surprise spread across Yami's face. "Died?"  
  
Yugi handed the Pharaoh a glass, and sat down with his own. "Yeah. Kaiba was distraught." He glanced surreptitiously over the rim of his drink, gauging the other's reaction. Yami, however, kept his face as devoid of emotion as possible.  
  
"I expect he was."  
  
"Of course, it wasn't the first time he'd lost someone he loved."  
  
"No..."  
  
"Yami, don't pretend you don't care, nor that you don't feel guilty."   
  
"What? What do you want me to say?" Yami snapped, his happy bubble bursting. "In case you hadn't noticed, I didn't exactly want to leave, but that dickhead Malik and the Tomb Robber didn't leave me with much choice, did they?"  
  
"So? Go and see Kaiba. You know where he lives."  
  
"I will. I just came to see you first, okay?"  
  
Yugi placed the glass down thoughtfully. "Sorry. I am ecstatic you're here. But you are so obviously distracted. I get the feeling you need to see him."  
  
Yami smiled at his light. After all this time, Yugi was still the altruistic youth the Pharaoh remembered and loved. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't return to Japan for Kaiba alone. We have a lot of catching up to do, aibou..."

* * *

"Bakura, this is really not a good idea..."  
  
"I disagree. It is a very, very good idea. Pure genius. Though, one would expect this of me, if one was smart."  
  
Ryou shot him a filthy look, pulling his leather mini skirt down, so as not to reveal too much of his thighs. Bakura's brilliant 'plan' was to get into the concert by flirting with the security guards, if they came across them. He insisted that it was much easier for women to get off the hook, when dealing with authority figures ("It's a proven psychology factor of criminal trials..."). Thus the cross-dressing. Of course, a part of Ryou put it down to kinky desires on his dark's part, but these had never really bothered him before...  
  
Ryou had to admit, Bakura made a very sexy lady. So very sexy, in his barely-clothed, skanky goodness, that it was enough to turn any queer boy straight... Wait, that made no sense... Perhaps it was the other way around? Or, perhaps, he had just had a few too many joints...  
  
Bakura dragged him towards the stadium, stumbling slightly in his high-heeled boots. They creeped round the back, finding a high wire fence. Bakura contemplated it for a moment. "Well, do you think you can scale it?"  
  
"In stillettos and fish-nets? Hell no."  
  
"Okay. Stand back."  
  
Ryou had just enough time to spring behind his counterpart, before there was a deafening crash. Bakura grinned at the ex-fence. Ryou glared at Bakura.  
  
"Smart. Great move. Now, there will be security everywhere. And they'll put us in prison, assuming we're terrorists or something. Look at me, I'm Al-Qaeda."  
  
"No, you're a man in a mini skirt, and you're following me behind these crates."  
  
They waited and watched for a moment, as security did indeed rush to the blown-up area, which was actually all part of the 'genius plan'. It made the rest of the journey a sinch. In theory, of course...  
  
As they tried, and failed, to squeeze through a rather small window, a voice slipped through the dim behind them. "Excuse me, but what do you young ladies think you're doing?"  
  
Bakura and Ryou whirled as one, identical guilt-ridden looks plastered on their faces. Ryou quickly replaced his own pout with a seductive smile.  
  
"Why, sir, we're just nipping into the concert." His voice was slightly squeaky, with the effort of hitching it up an octave.  
  
"From the bathroom window?"  
  
"Well, we're actually really desperate for the loo, and we couldn't wait to be admitted into the stadium." Bakura smiled sweetly. "You'll let us slip through, just this once, won't you, sir?" He fluttered his fake eyelashes, thrusting forward tissue-paper breasts.  
  
The officer removed their hat and stepped into the light, revealing shoulder length hair. It was, quite clearly, a woman. Bakura swore.  
  
"Yes, 'shit' indeed. Your flattery won't work on me."  
  
"But wait! Let us try again!" Bakura insisted, his voice suddenly returning to normal. "We're really men!"  
  
"Very masculine men, usually. You caught us on an off day."  
  
"You can check down below, if you really have to?"  
  
The officer shook her head, and escorted them out, amid wild protests from Bakura and laughter from Ryou. They were almost to the exit, when another voice greeted them, a shadowy figure standing in a doorway to the left.  
  
"Well, well, Bakura and Ryou, fancy seeing you here... in drag...?"

* * *

Umm... well, yeah. I'm in a queer mood. o.O and it's not alcohol-induced this time!! I've got a lot planned for the next few chapters: just bear with me. And about Bakura and Ryou - yeah, they're pot-heads, but some of the most interesting people I know are. Maybe that says a lot about the company I keep? They're all either pot-heads, or yaoi writers... oh well...  
  
Weviewsles, Pleasles? 


	4. In the Shadows

... I've been busy. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I've been working on other stuff, we leave for our school camp to Canberra (that'd be the capital of Australia, so we're doing the political rounds. YAYAY!) in 5 days... and there's been assignments and all sorts of crap. You know - high school.  
  
Couple of weekends ago, Orange-Lemons had a disaster. She tried to go blonde again, and ended up dying her hair orange and yellow. My hair was like a walking tribute to my pen name. Thankfully, the hairdressers fixed it, but it has an odd green tinge to it...  
  
Okay - If you haven't been to see the wonderful Xachro's fiction, and you enjoy a laugh, and want to see what kind of crazy people i hang with, then go find it... It's called 'Harry Potter and the Search for Saddam, NAKY!' i think. Also, I have a joint LJ (linked on my Orange-Lemons author biography page thingy...) We're all nutters, visit us!  
  
Disclaimer: All characters contained herein are property of Kazuki Takahashi.  
  
Chapter 4: In the Shadows.

* * *

It was raining. Little water droplets crept down the windows of the taxi, picking up momentum as they fell. Yami rested his star-ry head on the cool glass, breath fogging it in patches. There was an odd, nauseous feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He supposed it was nerves; Yugi had pratically kicked him out of the apartment, after half-an-hour's chit-chat.  
  
Yes, Yami wanted to see Seto. Wanted to hold him, touch him, kiss him, so much that it physically hurt. But certain words from a little monster were haunting him...  
  
And should he go, knowing what he did about Mokuba? Would it seem selfish, or unfeeling, not allowing Seto solitude in his time of grief? No, surely he couldn't let Seto be alone at this time?  
  
All too soon, the taxi pulled up outside the mansion. Yami exhaled slowly, gathering his scattered thoughts and courage. He could feel his heart pumping blood through his body rather erratically as he walked the long driveway, water trickling down his neck. Remembering the security cameras, he cast a concealment spell on himself.  
  
"At least Egypt was good for something," he muttered under his breath. His powers were kick ass.  
  
He hesitated at the door. Knock, or ring? He mentally stabbed himself with a pitchfork, for being so stupid. He pressed the little button.  
  
It seemed like an eternity to Yami, just standing on the marble entrance, heart thumping in his ears. Of course, knowing Seto, he was probably upstairs, working, blocking out the world. It was his way of dealing with grief - ignore it and it will go away.  
  
With a start, Yami heard footsteps. The door unlocked with a small, sharp click. Blue irises fixed upon red, eyes widening slightly. Both stood transfixed, neither breathing, as a rush of emotions ripped through their hearts. Yami searched the handsome face of his old lover for any sign of... anything... Anything that told of what stirred deep within the other's soul.  
  
The world stopped, it too waiting with bated breath.  
  
"Seto?"  
  
The moment shattered as glass, Seto recoiling as though branded. The door slammed shut, the harsh bang echoing in Yami's ears like a gunshot. He swayed slightly, his nausea reaching its peak. He crumpled to the cold, marble floor, slight form curling into a tight ball, shielding himself from the horrible misery clawing at him. Moonlight gleamed pale and pillars cast shadows upon the broken man. Tears fell freely and unrestrained from his cheeks, and gut-wrenching sobs tore from his heaving chest.  
  
He would never, never forget the look in Seto's eyes, before the door slammed shut.  
  
Pure hatred.

* * *

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalik!"  
  
"Malik! Make this transsexual unhand us!"  
  
Malik raised an eyebrow. "Transsexual?"  
  
"Yes! She was a man, and she's not anymore!"  
  
The nice security lady gaped. "You know these two... people?"  
  
"Yes, madam, I do indeed. They are good friends of mine," Malik replied politely, all smiles.  
  
"Should've known, the freaks..." she muttered under her breath.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"I said, 'I'll leave the three of you to catch up, then.'" She marched away. Malik, Bakura and Ryou looked at each other.  
  
"Well... nice weather lately, hey?"  
  
Ryou giggled. "It has been the most miserable Spring for years. Yep. Wonderful." The three laughed.  
  
"You are both just as I remember you."  
  
"You mean the women's clothing?"  
  
"I mean the insanity. Although you, Ryou, are more stoned than I remember."  
  
Ryou grinned. "How else could I put up with Bakura this long?"  
  
Malik laughed. "C'mon, come meet the rest of the band! We're on in fifteen minutes, have you got tickets?" They walked into the room, comfortably arranged with lounge chairs and empty pizza boxes in every corner. The room had a faint smell of Guinness, which neither found surprising.  
  
"No, actually. We were hoping you could get us in?"  
  
"Oh, of course! Hey, Skip, RJ, Nympho, this is Bakura and Ryou, mates of mine from Japan!"  
  
"Wow, Ma'k, they're kinkier than usual," remarked the one named 'Nympho', raking the silver-haired boys with dark eyes. He was scantily clad in leather, with pale make up and dark, spiked hair to rival the Pharaoh's. The other two had blonde hair and blue eyes, and looked Scandinavian. Skip had bottle-green tattoos over his cheeks, an elaborate design of flames. RJ had blood-red marks to match. They were obviously twins.  
  
"No, nuthin' like that, Nym. They're here for the show." There was something of an unfinished air to what he said. Ryou put it down to his rock star calibre; famous people always seem to leave doors open, as if creating avenues to question them more, though they know full well they're not going to answer. Kaiba used to do it all the time, the bastard. Malik certainly suited the lifestyle, too.  
  
"Oh, shit, man, the show!" Skip spoke for the first time. "When are we on?"  
  
Malik checked his watch. "Seven minutes. So, you got some?"  
  
"'Course."  
  
Bakura's eyes narrowed, as small packets of white powder appeared from nowhere. "Smack, Malik? Should've known..." Malik looked up from his little line of powder, a small grin on his face.  
  
"Yeah. I suffer from inverted vertigo."  
  
Bakura, the psychologist, looked quizzical. "What's that?"  
  
"When I'm not high, I'm scared." The room cracked up. "So, I take it you're not having any, Bakura. Or Ryou?"  
  
Bakura and his light exchanged glances. "We didn't say that..."

* * *

Yugi looked up at the clock. It was late. Really late. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. On the one hand, Yami could be too busy... uh... catching up with Kaiba to even spare a thought for Yugi. But on the other hand... what if Kaiba hadn't opened up?  
  
He knew Kaiba had old wounds that had never healed; knew that there was a lot of resentment towards Yami for leaving. Kaiba had never understood the hero thing. He was a businessman, and was all for one, and one for one. Except, of course, when it came to Mokuba.  
  
Yugi felt so bad for the both of them. They had had the most beautiful, pure relationship - one of deep, unwavering love, and the cruel hand of fate had torn away the happiness both had craved and deserved. And maybe, just maybe, it had ruined them forever.

* * *

There is a quote in there I have been trying to work in for MONTHS, it's from Billy Conolly. The inverted vertigo one!  
  
I know i've been using this as an excuse a lot, but once again, i was drunk while writing it, or at least the second half. I have vowed that from now on, i will stay off the drink. Yeah, i don't believe me either.  
  
Oh, and can I have a review?!? And can my friend Night's Child have one too, please? her fic is way better than mine, and she doesn't get drunk while she's wrting it. 


	5. Wrong Man

Um, hello, all... long time, no see, dahlins. I thought my fanfiction was long dead to be honest. But then you know what? out of curiosity, i went to see my reviews. And they motivated me to write at least another chapter. So thankyou everyone who reviewed, and I am dedicating this chapter to you, although it wont be one of my best, as my writing's a little rusty.

So, yeah, I'll just get on with it, shall i? yup...

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Is mine, yes! ALL MINE! Muahahahahahahaha!

Chapter 5: Wrong Man

* * *

Purple clouds bellowed from a glowing, golden sphere, blinding the tens of thousands of people watching. The air was charged with a palpable excitement. A deep, rumbling thunder crack reverberated through the stadium, though it was the clearest night they'd had in weeks. 

Bakura smiled. Trust Malik to invoke the powers of the Shadow Realm to give his concert a kick-start. Of course, most present assumed it was just wicked special effects, and the rest were too high to care.

There was an explosion and in a shower of shimmering, lilac sparks, Malik appeared at the mic. Bakura marvelled at how close he and Ryou were to the stage; the albino could even see the slight smile that graced the Egyptian's face as the crowed screamed their welcome, his noticeably bloodshot eyes sparkling devilishly.

He ran a finger along the microphone, as if welcoming an old friend. The other hand lightly skimmed the Millennium Rod. A howling wind ripped through the stadium, Malik's light blonde hair whipping about his face. He loved these theatrics. They were... magical.

"Helloooo London!"

Renewed screams erupted from the crowd. Malik laughed softly into the mic, and licked his lips. "Our first song tonight is dedicated to some lost friends of mine who turned up fifteen minutes ago. It's called 'Wrong Man'" His eyes flicked in Ryou and Bakura's direction as Nymph counted them in.

Amongst the frenzied screaming, a minute frown settled in place on a certain silver-haired Egyptian's mouth.

* * *

Seto shivered. He had stayed by his front door for hours, where he had originally dropped to the floor after slamming the door in his soul mate's face. It was now three o'clock in the morning. He hugged his knees close to his body, as much for warmth as comfort. His mind was in turmoil, his heart in shreds (again) and yet he hadn't shed a single tear. He had none left. 

Seto Kaiba was not one to indulge in self-pity. However, enough was enough. After walking the earth for less than a quater of a century, he felt he had endured all he could take. He was not devoid of emotions, as most believed. Just every damned person in his life had, whether intentionally or not, shrivelled them into withered, black roses, no longer striving for the light.

Did he want Yami back? Hell yes. More than anything in the world. But he couldn't. His bruised heart had locked itself away in despair. "Yami..." he breathed, burying his head in folded arms.

"Why did you have to come back?"

* * *

There were Smirnoff's all round. Another great concert down. Psychyatryst had a reputation for being more than a little _boisterous_ after their concerts, and tonight was no exception. Skip was still strumming away, amp's volume cranked all the way, spilling vodka all over the place. 

"He's going to electrocute himself!" Ryou giggled. He hadn't stopped giggling since the little white line had disappeared up his nostril.

"He already has, how'd you think he got the hair?" Ryou giggled so hard he fell off the chair. Tears were streaming from already red eyes. His chest heaved and his lungs burned, but he couldn't stop laughing.

"I... ca... can't breathe!" He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the next onslaught of hysterics. Bakura leant over his light, and pulled him up off the floor, holding his shaking body. Still giggling, Ryou looked at him in surprise.

"Take it easy," Bakura warned softly.

Suddenly there was a crash, and a loud bang. Everyone turned to see Malik staring at the fireplace, which had literally exploded. Tiny flames were licking at the carpet. Skip ran to get water, followed quickly by his brother, who ran to _stop_ him getting water.

"What did you just do, Malik?" asked Ryou politely.

He shrugged. "Threw my half-empty bottle in there."

"Funny, I'd have said it was half-full," RJ grinned, reappearing at the door with a towel to smother the burning carpet. Ryou collapsed into another fit of giggles, holding on to Bakura's shirt for support.

"Ryou, I don't think I'm ever letting you near heroin again." Bakura said to his light. There was no response. Looking down, he discovered his boyfriend asleep, or unconscious, in his arms. Sighing, he lay him down on the sofa.

"Couldn't take it, huh? He'll be right, that stuff is pure." RJ assured him, sucking on a burnt finger. "Bloody hell Malik, you psycho."

"It matches your tattoo, RJ" Bakura remarked, earning a smile. "Oh, what does RJ stand for, by the way?"

"That, my friend, is something you will not get out of me, ever. Unless you get me exceptionally sloshed."

"What a brilliant idea!" Malik brandished several bottles of spirits at them. "May I propose a game?"

* * *

Yami wandered around the streets, entirely unsure of where he was. Not that he gave a shit. In his five years in Egypt, the only thing that kept him alive and fighting was Seto. He had been alone with naught but his memories, and the hieroglyphic mentions of the Ancient Pharaoh and his Priest to keep him sane; he wasn't sure it had worked, either. 

He'd been so excited, knowing he could come back. He had discovered so many things about his past and his powers, and he couldn't wait to tell Seto. To hold him in his arms and tell him tales of an eternal love that spread across three millennia.

Why had he thought Seto would welcome him back with open arms? Yami had hurt him; he could see it in those beautiful cerulean eyes. _You're a coward_, a voice spat in his head. _A filthy coward. You don't deserve him._

"I know," Yami whispered under his breath. "Oh Ra... Why did I come back?"

* * *

"You bloody wank, you cheated." Bakura poked Malik with the neck of an empty bottle. They sat amongst a mass of unconscious bodies; Bakura would have worried about alcohol poisoning, but right now he doubted he could even spell it. 

"And you didn't use Shadow Magick once, did you? You're just an amazing human being who can survive drinking a whole bottle of tequila and half a bottle of vodka, not to mention the several Smirnoff's downed earlier, the smack before the concert and the pot you had before you came. You should be dead, Bakura."

Bakura looked awestruck. "Fuck, I should."

"I'm glad you're not."

The albino snapped to attention. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Whatever you think it should," Malik leered slightly, before taking another swig from his bottle.

Bakura's brow furrowed. "Malik.. At your concert... that song..?"

Lilac eyes were fixed upon chocolate. "What of it?"

"Did that have anything to do with me and Ryou?" Subtlety is not a strong point of a drunken Bakura.

"And what if it did?" He edged closer, a strange light in his eyes.

"Just answer the question, fool."

"Okay. Yes. Ryou is a stupid weak bastard. I want you." Malik was so close now, Bakura could see the little clumps in his kohl lines. He knew what was coming. He felt dizzy, and closed his eyes, expecting to taste Malik's lips on his own, knowing he wanted it more than he should.

Instead, a tongue licked a sensitive little spot on his neck, before teeth descended on it and Malik sucked, hard. Bakura, in a moment of weakness, yelped. The singer laughed.

"And you want me, too."

Bakura searched the purple irises; could see Malik searching his own. The same drunken lust and desire reflected in each man's eyes. Malik touched his lips to the other's.

And this time Bakura kissed him back.

* * *

There we have it. Another chapter, FINALLY! I'm sorry, i really am. Year 11 extension mathematics is killing me; especially our teacher, who talks like a whale. 

Next Chapter: Limey stuff.

Drop a review on the way through; perhaps it wont take me months to update this time...

* * *


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